


Magic in the Making

by vix_spes



Category: Basic Instinct (Movies), Clash of the Titans (2010), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Burlesque, Cabarets, FlowerBear, Getting Together, Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, Rare Pairings, Strongman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 02:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14070585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: They had been colleagues for a while but an unpleasant even brings them closer together.





	Magic in the Making

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeWendigogo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeWendigogo/gifts).



> Thank you to Nia_Kantorka and FrostyLeeGraham for the beta.

Draco, the tattooed, vintage strongman.

Adam stood in the wings and watched the newest act of their little company take centre-stage. The man might not be a seasoned professional but, if the cheers and applause were anything to go by, he was proving popular enough. Adam wasn’t entirely surprised by that. Not only was the routine interesting in the way that it incorporated traditional strongman elements using iron bars and the like alongside audience participation and a spiel on how to act like a gentleman. It didn’t hurt that the man was easy on the eye either. Big, buff and bear-like, Draco was ridiculously attractive as well as being genuinely nice. It was quite nice, the new routine adding a bit of diversity to the pre-existing more traditional circus elements of the show. They hadn’t had a strongman act before, at least not since Adam had joined the troupe and that was three years ago now.

The troupe was called Le Cirque. 

They hosted an alternative cabaret show – Savage Beauty - five nights a week from their home under the arches of one of London’s many railway bridges. They weren’t one of the biggest venues, but they had built up a loyal following and regularly appeared on the recommended lists in the papers and online. That was how Adam had discovered them. He had been sent along to review one of their shows, completely prepared to write a scathing review but he had gone along and had fallen in love. The venue and its inhabitants were so vibrant and full of life. He had gone home and written the first entirely positive review of his career before booking a ticket for the following evening with his own money.

The performers were from all walks of life and utterly fearless, none of them conforming to what was expected of them. The show was a mixture of circus and cabaret. They had recruited jugglers, a magician, a burlesque performer, a drag queen with her own troupe of backing dancers, several acrobats and a contortionist who did a routine with a snake. It felt weird and quirky and, to put it bluntly, more than a little wonderful.

Adam found himself returning time and time again until he not only had a reserved seat, but he also counted the performers amongst his closest friends, something remarkable for him considering that he had always been career-oriented, so determined to become a world-famous journalist that friendships had fallen by the wayside. He had been a regular patron at Le Cirque for about three months when he was convinced to join in. They’d tried several times but, on this particular occasion, he had had enough to drink that he had agreed. After hours, it was just the members of Savage Beauty left as Miss Kitty gave Adam a quick lesson in the art of burlesque before pushing him out on the stage.

Those first thirty seconds had been utterly terrifying, and Adam was fairly certain that he looked like an ungainly, wide-eyed Bambi as he made his way around the stage, stripping almost clumsily. His attempt was far from possessing the grace that Miss Kitty demonstrated in her routines, but he was amongst friends and, before too long, Adam found himself enjoying it. Revelling in the feeling of power and fulfilment that it gave him.

When he finally tumbled off the stage in exhilaration, Miss Kitty agreed to a standing weekly lesson and, after three months, Adam made his debut at the club. Under her supervision, Adam had created his stage persona; Adam Flowers. He’d always had an affinity, a love for pretty, pastel items more often than not emblazoned with flowers but never really allowed himself to indulge, hiding it away from himself as well as everyone else. Now though, he incorporated it into his act with plenty of flowers, pastel knickers and sky-high heels when the mood took him.

Adam didn’t want to be a carbon copy of Miss Kitty’s traditional burlesque routines although he wanted to incorporate certain elements. So, instead of doing research for the stories and assignments that he was supposed to be working on, Adam found himself watching countless videos of burlesque and boylesque routines, gleaning various elements that he could use in his own routines. And then he saw an advert offering lessons in how to use aerial silks and signed up. Before long, Adam had hit upon what worked best for him and his routine; a combination of boylesque and burlesque with some aerial silks thrown in for good measure. Not only did Adam love it, but so did Le Cirque’s audiences.

Unfortunately for Adam, while his new career was thriving, and he was loving it, not all of those in his life were as enamoured with it as he was. Foremost amongst them was Adam’s lover, Jean Duran. A high-flying and somewhat notorious figure in the world of finance with rather questionable morals and business practises, Adam had met the Albanian when he had been sent looking for a scoop by his bosses.  Adam had not only ended up with the scoop (and front page) but flat on his back, knees by his ears being fucked into the mattress. That had pretty much been the extent of their relationship. Whenever Jean was in London, Adam was expected to be at his beck and call, providing well-dressed eye-candy on Jean’s arm at Michelin-starred restaurants around the City and a willing body in Jean’s bed.

It had been good at first. Jean was undeniably handsome, rich as sin and fucked like a god. However, he was also disdainful, arrogant and only interested in what he wanted and what he could get. Thus, Adam's refusal to attend a dinner with him, some four months into their arrangement, had not gone down well at all. At the time, Adam had been mostly working as a journalist and performing at Le Cirque a couple of times a week and the dinner that Jean wanted him to attend had clashed with one of Adam's shows. Adam had considered missing the show, but he was just starting to make a name for himself, feel comfortable with himself as a performer and he was loathe to give that up for somebody that treated him as a pretty, warm hole.

Jean hadn’t taken Adam’s refusal well. At all. He had been silent for several long minutes before the vitriol had ensued, all of it uttered in ice-cold tones. Adam had stood in stunned silence as insult after derogatory remark after slur was made against him before their arrangement was severed and he was all but thrown out of Jean’s apartment onto the street. Simultaneously numb and angry, Adam had holed himself up in his apartment where he had drunk far too much and managed to resist the urge to write a piece including all of the details that he had gleaned about Jean’s less than legal business practises. Instead, he had honed all of his focus on his upcoming performance, determined to make it his best yet and made the decision to get over Jean as quickly as possible.

Except it hadn’t quite worked that way. After Jean, there had been Michael Glass, who hadn't really been interested in Adam, just in playing fucked up games with the mad bitch Catherine Tramell. It was the ultimate ill-conceived rebound relationship. Adam had known it was a bad idea going into it, but he had been bruised and hurting from Jean and unable to say no. Thankfully, he had managed to extricate himself before he became too entrenched in their twisted web of lies and games, albeit not without a little bit of damage to himself though.

That had been the best part of two and a half years ago now. Le Cirque had picked up the pieces and given him something to get through those early days. As he had become more and more entrenched at Le Cirque, Adam had cut down on his journalism although he hadn't stopped altogether. Whilst he still enjoyed the actual process of writing, he had lost some of his enthusiasm for fighting for scraps and possible scoops with the other tabloid writers, and so he channelled his love for writing into a submitting work to a variety of blogs in addition to the odd piece for major tabloids and broadsheets as a freelancer whilst performing on stage at Cirque every night. It may not be the life that Adam had envisaged for himself, but he loved it nonetheless. At Le Cirque, he’d not only found a family, he’d found himself.

Now, staring appreciatively as Draco removed his shirt and flexed his intricately tattooed muscles, Adam may have found the one remaining thing that he had been missing recently.

A man. A relationship. Somebody to come home to. Not the one-sided thing that he'd had with Jean but something real.

~*~

Adam winced as he stepped out of the stage door and saw the knot of men waiting for him on the opposite side of the road. He had known that this group were going to be trouble the minute that he’d seen them in the audience. Flashy City fuck boys who had far too much money and too little sense. They’d already been completely and utterly plastered when they’d walked into the club and quite clearly hadn’t had a clue what they were in for. They behaved themselves for the first part of the show, clapping and hollering for the more standard circus acts. Unfortunately for the acts of Le Cirque who were on in the second half, their enthusiasm waned. Apparently, the last thing that they had been expecting from an alternative cabaret club was a drag queen with the most killer voice that Adam had ever heard or a boylesque routine.

The heckling had started almost immediately, to no-one’s surprise. Lady Vee had performed with all of the grace and class that she always did, refusing to even bat one incredibly long, utterly false eyelash in their general direction as they had shouted rude and derogatory remarks all the way through her performance. Her backing dancers were not made of such stern stuff. Two of them - both in their late teens and new recruits to Cirque - had come off-stage in tears and had been led away by their fellow dancers to be consoled and cosseted. Adam felt a brief stab of sympathy before he quickly brushed it aside; they’d grow thicker skin soon enough and learn how to brush it aside, if only on the outside. After all, he had.

And then, there had been no time to think about anything but his performance as he was announced and the spotlight lit the stage. Striding out into the soft light, Adam did everything that he could to focus on nothing but the music and his choreography. This particular routine was a mixture of boylesque and acrobatics, the actual boylesque stripping part of the routine very tasteful and quick, with Adam wrapping the silks around him and teasing the audience from behind them; a glimpse of bare back here, a flash of thigh there. It didn’t take long for him to be as close to naked as he was going to get for this routine, his shirt and trousers discarded so all that was left in were a pair of high-cut, lacy and baby-pink knickers with ruffles on the seat of them.

It didn’t surprise Adam when the heckling took a nastier turn at this point in the routine, disgusted noises joining the shouted slurs, but Adam focused every scrap of his concentration on his routine. For his own safety, he couldn’t afford to be distracted lest he want to fall from the silks mid-routine. So, he focused on the music, the feel of the silks in his hands and each and every contraction and release of his abs until his routine was finished with the final death drop from the eaves of the stage. Whilst 95% of the room was cheering, it was hard to ignore the booing, hissing morons front and centre. While Adam had managed a gracious and somewhat flamboyant bow, he was still shaking when he walked off-stage and headed for his dressing room.

Adam had taken his time removing his stage makeup, hanging up his costume and getting dressed in his street clothes in the hope that they would have disappeared already when he finally emerged but, alas, no such luck. Whilst he wasn’t afraid of confrontation, Adam wasn’t in the mood for it. These City boys reminded him too much of Jean and poked at a still raw nerve, so he tried to just sidle past them, but they weren’t having any of it.

They blocked his way and continued with the same shouted slurs from before. Fag. Freak. Thing. Every time Adam tried to move past them, they moved with him so he couldn't escape, jostling him as they did so. Adam made one last ditch attempt to get past them only to be rebuffed and pushed hard enough that he was winded when a familiar voice broke through the jeers.

“Is there a problem here?”

Adam looked up and saw the form of Cirque’s (relatively) new strongman looming from the shadows. He had thought that no-one was left at Le Cirque when he left but was grateful for his mistake. Despite himself, Adam felt a wave of safety wash over him. They might be of a similar height but, where Adam was lithe and lean, Draco was built like a bear, thick and hairy, a solid wall of comfort at Adam’s back.

“You wouldn’t be looking to cause trouble for one of Cirque’s performers, would you? Not after they’ve performed so beautifully for you.”

“Performed beautifully? That thing? This place should be named Cirque du fucking Freak.”

Draco didn’t say anything, but Adam felt him take a step forward and clearly something about him made the fuck boys lose their courage and turn tail, all but running down the street. Slanting his gaze sideways, Adam caught sight of a snarl on Draco’s face and couldn’t help the small smirk that curved his lips. Very much a bear then. He forced himself to focus as he saw Draco’s lips moving.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, are you okay, Mr. Flowers?”

“Oh! I’m fine. Thank you for your help and its just Adam. Flowers is an add-on for the stage.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Adam. I’m Draco.”

The words were accompanied by a shallow bow and Adam found himself wondering just how much of Draco’s pseudo-Victorian gentleman act was just that, an act. “Well, thank you for your help, Draco, I really do appreciate it. I'll see you for the show tomorrow.”

Adam turned away and was prepared to walk the long way to the station. He didn’t want any more trouble and figured he would be able to avoid them when a hand caught his wrist. Hesitantly, he turned to see Draco looking at him, a mixture of concern and hope on his face.

“Look, tell me to get lost if you want but you look shaken and I'm not convinced that those idiots haven't hung around. Will you let me buy you a drink? Or supper?”

Adam paused, clearly wavering. He was tempted, oh god was he tempted. Draco was absolutely fucking gorgeous and everybody at Cirque loved him, but Adam just wasn't good with people. He had got better since he joined the Cirque family, but he wasn't great and still tended to hold himself apart from others in a rather aloof manner. And that was without taking the horrific mess that was his relationship with Jean and the ensuing clusterfuck that had come about as a result of his not brief enough rebound relationship with Michael Glass. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? And Adam had been wanting to get to know Draco, even if he hadn't admitted it.

“Sure, that sounds good. Did you have somewhere in mind?”

“Follow me.”

~*~

Wherever Adam was expecting Draco to take him, it hadn’t been The Breakfast Club. Not that he was complaining; you couldn’t go wrong with breakfast for dinner, especially post-show. Once they had ordered, there was a bit of an awkward silence before Adam’s journalistic background kicked in and he started asking questions. By the time that their food had arrived, Adam had managed to glean that Draco was a former military man who had retired after serving for twenty years and that he was now retraining as a tattoo artist. When their food arrived, Adam watched in amazement as Draco proceeded to steadily pack away the entire ‘Night Monty’ whilst Adam picked at his own Korean Fried Chicken and waffles, more interested in the man opposite him than the food.

Up close, Draco was even bigger than he appeared on stage. Adam had got that sense when Draco had loomed behind him earlier and scared off the dickheads that wouldn’t leave him alone but seeing it right in front of him really drove it home. In all honesty, Adam couldn’t stop staring. He wasn’t really sure how he would have expected Draco to dress, having only seen him in his stage costume so far, but he approved. Soft, worn-in jeans clung to thick thighs while his t-shirt genuinely strained across his wide chest, was tight around the biceps and enhanced the slight tummy that Draco sported. The v-neck hinted at the rug of chest hair beneath and Adam felt desire coil in his belly. Long tawny hair fell in Draco’s eyes and made Adam’s fingers itch to see if it was as soft as it looked. The eyes themselves changed colour depending on how the light fell, moving from a bright amber to a rich maroon. The man looked like a Viking god come to life and Adam couldn’t help but scoff at his own thoughts.

That was just his looks though.

Completely belying his size and perhaps Adam’s expectations, Draco wasn’t brash in nature but the opposite instead. He was attentive, softly-spoken and the ‘how to be a gentleman’ part of his act was not just part of the act, it was inbred into him. To Adam’s relax, Draco relaxed and seemed to gain in confidence as time passed, asking questions about Adam’s own life and - to Adam’s shock - being genuinely interested in the answers. Before too long, talk turned to Le Cirque and Savage Beauty. Adam made his comment on how nice it was to have Draco’s routine added to the show and then, rather uncharacteristically, was at a loss for words when Draco admitted to regularly watching Adam’s routine and being captivated by it, a particularly charming blush dusting those sharp cheekbones where they emerged above the full beard. The way that he spoke so eloquently about Adam, about his routine, had Adam completely floored.

Yeah, he may not be good with people, but Adam was more than a little smitten with his gorgeous bear of a co-worker.

They lingered until, finally, they were the only people left in the restaurant and the waitstaff had to tell them to leave so that they could go home themselves. Adam wasn’t remotely surprised when Draco insisted on escorting him to the nearest station and, when there was no train for the best part of thirty minutes, booking him a taxi. Adam had protested but it was a token protest and they both knew it. Adam had never had anyone treat him so solicitously and he found that he rather liked it. As the taxi pulled up, Adam’s grab for the door handle was pre-empted by Draco who opened it and ushered Adam in.

Part of Adam balked at the treatment but, he had the feeling that Draco did it automatically because that was the way that he had been brought up; to be a gentleman. He looked up when, instead of shutting the door as soon as Adam was seated, Draco lingered, clearly wanting to ask something but nervous.

“Did you want to ask something, Draco?”

“Would you, I mean, would you maybe like to do this again sometime?”

Adam grinned and rummaged in his bag for one of his ever-present pens before grasping Draco’s arm and pulling it towards him. It was hard to find enough space to write amongst the tattoos, but Adam found a spot and scrawled down his number, looking up at Draco through his eyelashes.

“I’d love to.”

~*~

“And, all of you wonderful people, it gives me great pleasure to introduce our final act of the evening. For your delight and delectation, I give you Adam Flowers.”

From his spot behind the curtain, Adam looked into the wings as he was announced and locked eyes with Draco, smiling as he did so. Tonight, Adam was going to perform his favourite routine. One that he hadn’t performed since Draco had arrived at Le Cirque. He didn’t perform that often, mainly because it was his favourite and he didn’t want to lose the love for it. He was performing it especially for Draco tonight and he was determined that it was going to be perfect. Knowing he still had several minutes, Adam allowed himself to stare at his lover, drinking in his fill.

Draco was still dressed in his strongman outfit and Adam had to swallow heavily at the sight, particularly as Draco was only wearing the lower half of his costume. The slightly baggy trousers clung deliciously to thick thighs and the belt highlighted Draco’s trim waist. Unfortunately for Adam, this particular pair of trousers hid Draco’s soft belly that he was so self-conscious of, but that Adam adored. Not hidden in the slightest was Draco’s torso. He may not have been Adam’s usual choice of lover but, now that he had his bear, Adam couldn’t imagine finding anyone else attractive. He could just see the dark whorls of tattoos on Draco’s massive arms and shoulders, while his fingers itched to bury themselves in the pelt of hair on Draco’s chest.

The surge of applause from the other side of the curtain pulled Adam from the thought that he’d like to lick the sweat that he could see glistening on Draco’s neck and he positioned himself in the bower just in time for the curtain to sweep back and reveal him.

This particular routine – Flower Boy – was a routine that Adam had spent a lot of time on over the years from his costume, the props to the music and the routine itself. It was a combination of classic burlesque and boylesque – none of the aerial silks he sometimes used -, inimitable and unique just like Adam himself. At the top of the routine, if you ignored the giant flower bower, you would be forgiven for assuming that this was your average boylesque routine.

Mostly.

Adam started in a classic Burberry suit cut ever so slightly more generously cut than he usually preferred for ease of movement. The glaring aberration came in the form of Adam’s shoes – sky-high pastel heels emblazoned with crystal flowers. One thing that Adam had learnt over the years was that there was simply no sexy way to take off men’s shoes and, besides, the heels added an extra bit of swing to his movements and made his arse look fucking fantastic, thank you very much.

As the music started, Adam slipped into performance mode although his performance was one very special audience, not the paying one beyond the footlights. Every sway of his hips, every curve of his lips and flirtatious glance was for the bear hiding in the wings.

His bear.

Adam may have been leery about accepting Draco’s invitation for a drink that evening outside the club, when Draco had rescued him from the prejudiced wankers, but now Adam had not one single regret. How could he? These last three months with Draco had been like a blissful dream and one that, quite frankly, he didn’t want to wake up from. Draco was so completely different from any man that he’d ever dated before, the complete opposite of both Jean and Michael. Okay, maybe not the complete opposite - Draco also fucked like a god - but where the other two had been cold and cruel or only interested in mind games, Draco was genuinely sweet and loving; the perfect gentleman. Adam, having been a cynic for so much of his life, found himself incandescently happy with Draco, something that he had never thought he would ever say.

Biting his lip seductively, he trailed his fingers down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it slip to the floor with a roll of his shoulders. As he turned, Adam showed off the flowers and vines that trailed up his spine, dipping below the waistline of his trousers. Draco had painted them there earlier that afternoon as Adam sprawled naked over his sheets, trying not to squirm at the sensation. The flowers were Adam’s idea and Draco’s design and, as soon as Draco qualified as a tattoo artist, he would be the one to ink them there permanently. Completing his turn so that his arse was to the audience, Adam wiggled it before ripping off his trousers leaving him in his favourite ruffled knickers and his heels.

In a change from when he was usually on stage, Adam was utterly oblivious to the response of the audience. Usually, he watched their reactions closely and adjusted his performance accordingly, changing nuances depending on the dynamics in the room. Tonight though, while the newcomers to Le Cirque wouldn't notice a difference, those that knew him could tell that every single step Adam took, every movement he made was for the man at the side of the stage watching with a smile on his lips and lust in his eyes.

Three minutes later, Adam took the quickest bow ever and strode off the stage straight into Draco’s embrace. There was no hesitation from either of them, Draco’s thick arms banding around Adam's back and supporting him as he all but climbed Draco like a tree. Adam rubbed his bare chest against Draco’s fur, sliding a hand between them to squeeze Draco’s erection.

“You enjoyed the show then?”

“Very much so. You were beautiful, flower. Just as you always are.”

Adam flung his arms around Draco’s neck, pressing their lips together in a heartfelt kiss. Oh, how he loved this man. “Take me to bed, my bear.”

“With pleasure, flower.”

Adam grinned against the flesh of Draco’s throat as he was carried off to his dressing room, fingers toying with the braids that he'd put in Draco’s hair and that had been left there. There was magic in the making at Le Cirque, something in the air. There had to be. How else would Adam find himself and Draco there? Not that it mattered. Adam had everything he wanted or at least he would have in a few minutes when got Draco alone in his dressing room.

Adam ground down against the clearly defined bulge in Draco’s trousers, revelling in the growl he received and the way that large hands gripped his arse tighter. Yeah, there was no way they were going to make it home before Draco’s cock was buried inside him and Adam wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, he hadn't specified where the bed had to be...

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to share the post on Tumblr, you can find it [here](http://vix-spes.tumblr.com/post/172181131360/magic-in-the-making-vixspes-clash-of-the)
> 
> If you'd prefer to comment on DW, you can do so [here](https://vix-spes.dreamwidth.org/299541.html)


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